The Eye of the Beholder
by MaverickLiza
Summary: PreSeason 1: Syd is working for SD6 the supposed good guys her best friends are Will and Francie and she has a great relationship with her boyfriend Danny. But will all that change with a chance meeting with a certain greeneyed stranger?
1. Prologue: The Enemy Walks In

**Authors:** me, Liza, and my friend Prelude

**Rating:** uh, I would say certainly no higher than PG-13, and we'll just go with that one to be safe

**Disclaimer:** we don't own it…no, seriously, we don't…I know, but what can you do?

**Spoilers:** I'm thinking none, it being pre-season One and all that stuff

**Dedications:** to Libby, Lucy, and Flick (Prelude's friends)

**A/N: **Ok, so basically this fic (co-written by me and Prelude) is kinda AU, set before Truth Be Told. Syd's working for SD-6, going out with Danny, friends with Will and Francie etc, and on her missions she bumps into this mysterious stranger, and that's all you're getting for now!

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

**Prologue: The Enemy Walks In.**

The cocktail lounge was simple, but elegant, and only the most foolish and blind eyes could see it as shabby. It sparkled with a brilliance of life that reflected the shining stars contrasted in the black night outside. The mellow music and refined furniture screamed of wealth beyond the average citizen's imagination. The drinks were pleasant, the food exquisite, and the entertainment was fascinating.

Curtains of the finest silk were draped before tall windows of coloured glass. Though the ceilings were high, priceless paintings were displayed above the guests to be awed and revered. The lighting was a perfect, pale color, suiting the genial mood of the party. With the faint twitter of laughter, the honored guests were enjoying themselves, clearly indulging themselves in the sophistication and pleasantries of their high social rank.

And yet, five floors below this party, accomplishing a task, the possibility of which would not even have crossed the minds of the guests, Agent Sydney Bristow was in the process of fleeing with an invaluable device from the rich, but ignorant, host of the party.

"Dixon, I've got the device. I'll see you in five," she whispered into her comm while placing a small, rectangular object safely into her pocket.

Stepping quietly out of the vault, she examined the hall to be sure that no guard was heading her way. Of course, Dixon had taken care of the surveillance and alarms, but, nonetheless, she had to be very careful. Dressed simply in a black turtleneck, pants, and boots, Sydney ran down the hallways with the confidence and stealth that was the envy of every agent working in SD-6. Despite any circumstance or obstacle, she always managed to complete her every mission with the highest consideration for perfection and diligence. Always.

_This is too easy_, she thought to herself as she eased herself down a flight of stairs. But the mission was not yet over--this she well knew. As usual, the most difficult task was not to obtain or destroy but to escape without a trace.

As she neared another turn, her apprehension was rewarded with the sight of a gun held by a slightly outstretched arm. Immediately, without even the thought of hesitating, Sydney kicked the gun out of the stranger's hand and delivered another kick to his chest, which sent him flying into the wall behind him. She charged at him and swung her fist, hoping to end this fight quickly and quietly.

But the stranger, although taken by surprise at first, was now fully alert and prepared to face her. Dodging her clenched fist, he ducked and hit her ribs with a fair amount of strength. Angered by the man's actions, she kneed his jaw forcefully and kicked him down when he had kneeled. Staring at the figure on the floor, Sydney thought she saw determination flare in his colored eyes before she felt the ground slip from under her when he tripped her.

Without wasting the opportunity, the man rose from the floor and ran after the abandoned gun lying nearby with Sydney sprinting behind him. Since he could not match her speed, she easily reached him before he could seize the weapon. Grabbing his black shirt, she spun him around forcefully to face her. As he turned, the man swung his left hand, aiming for her jaw and missing. With reflexes as sharp as the knife she carried strapped to her leg, she struck his covered face twice before kicking him further back into the hallway and away from the gun.

Briskly advancing towards him, she let her right fist fly but failed to hit her target. Instead, the stranger ducked and punched her chest with brute strength. Sydney, the wind nearly knocked out of her, doubled over in pain. But nothing could compete with the adrenaline within her, so she did not stay stooped over for long. When the enemy moved forward, she turned and kicked his chest, effectively driving him against the wall. With victory on her mind, she struck his face with a left backhand and swung her right fist to end the battle.

But her assailant must have read her mind, for, with her same lightening speed, he snatched her arm in time before she could make contact. Not one to be discouraged by a challenge, she saw her opening and kicked the back of his knee, causing him to partly kneel before her. However, before she could make her next move, he reached around her waist and tackled her down. Before she could escape, he pinned down each arm with one hand and lightly rested on her stomach, his legs on either side of her waist. Now that she was momentarily trapped, the man proceeded to take this time to recuperate and study the fierce woman below him. With the two of them breathing heavily, Sydney, waiting for the mistake that would become her opportunity, could only do the same.

The stranger was quite obviously a strong man, but he was not exceptionally bulky; she was able to discern this from his somewhat light frame and bearable weight on her abdomen. He had a broad chest and shoulders with muscles that were outlined by the tight, black shirt he wore. From what she had seen, his condition was excellent, and his figure was well worthy of praise. The hands that pressed down on her arms were sturdy, but not callous, suggesting that he was a strong man who could easily provide both protection and loving care...

_What was she thinking! This man was her enemy! She had to focus again._

That was when Sydney Bristow made the fatal mistake of staring into his eyes. Though she had looked at them once, it was not until now that she noticed the incredible shade of green that shone from his eyes. They were the color of a forest, a deep jungle that held countless mysteries in the form of emeralds. Yet, even with the jade enigmas, there was something within this sea of green that radiated honesty and righteousness. As his irises altered into a darker shade, there was something in him that told her conscience he could be trusted. In those eyes, she read emotions that she knew reflected her own: anger, frustration, confusion, acquiescence, amiability, and..._desire?_

It was only at that moment that Sydney realized the entire time she had been staring at him, the man on top of her had been holding her gaze, inching closer and closer to her face. With a small amount of space between them, a space filled with a whisper, a promise of something to come, they both held their breath, wondering who would make the next move. Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his left hand off of her arm and placed it on the edge of the black mask that concealed his face.

Until this moment, Sydney Bristow had never been distracted or swayed while on the job, and certainly not swept off her feet (literally) by a complete stranger, a gorgeous stranger that was her enemy. She was the best at what she did because she had worked hard to become so. Without any exception, she completed every mission with alacrity and prudence. Despite the high degree of difficulty, she was forever praised for her ability to remain calm and focused.

_And she was not about to let that reputation go to waste on a stranger she had just spent the past few minutes fighting._

And so, with practiced concentration, Sydney reevaluated the present situation in order to make her escape. With her keen perception, she quickly realized the advantage she had with his leaning posture and his now removed hand. A taunting smile of triumph on her lips, she pushed her arms down by her sides while lifting up her hips, consequently causing the man the fall forward. Without delay, she sprang up and sprinted towards the nearby weapon on the floor. Gun in hand, she faced him with a steady confidence not to be taken lightly as he began to rise from the ground.

Pointing the gun at him, she ordered with a dominant voice, "Stay where you are. Kneel down, and put your hands behind your head."

Without a word, the stranger did as she ordered and waited patiently for her next course of action. Keeping the weapon trained on him, she tentatively walked forward, staring into the beautiful eyes that displayed disappointment, understanding, and, finally, pride. With a tinge of regret, she took the end of the gun and struck his head, knocking him unconscious. Throwing the gun beside his body, she took one last look at the man before running to meet Dixon at the pickup location. And, even while she did so, she knew that those green eyes would haunt her.

_So that's it for the prologue. Updates aren't gonna be too frequent, 'cause we're both at school and have to work and stuff, but we'll post as often as possible. Hope you enjoyed it! Please review so I'll know to keep posting!_


	2. Trust is a Tricky Thing

Hey everyone! Thanks for the great reviews! So here's chapter one... Hope you all like it! Please, please, please, read and review. It helps so much to know that there's _someone_ reading this story, lol. Enjoy!

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Though the midday sun was blazing mercilessly above the city, a light breeze provided relief to the people below. Many relished the weather and chose to spend the day with loved ones outdoors while others took advantage of the pleasant summer day with a healthy jog. It was because of this that that track was flooded with a plethora of joggers. Among the energized people with heavy prespiration were a lithe, yet fierce brunette and her clueless but cute blonde friend.

"…so Litvack wants me to do a follow-up article on it, and she said she'll think about giving me a front page story soon," Will Tippin gasped out in between short breaths. Though he was fully aware of her superior condition, he persistently jogged every time beside his fitter, stronger friend.

"Will, that's great," Sydney enthused with only a slight trace of breathlessness as they rounded the track for the tenth time. "Seriously, you have to have more confidence in yourself. Your writing's brilliant, and it was only a matter of time before you got a lot of recognition for it."

Will's sweating red face stared at her in disbelief. "Hey, we're not all you like you, Syd - fearless, confident, outgoing…" Syd couldn't help but laugh.

"Will, I'm none of those things," she replied after taking a moment to catch her breath. The trick is to make other people think you are, and you'll do fine. Anyway, do you wanna do another lap, or are you done?" she questioned him with a hardly breathless voice.

"I think I'm done," Will exhaled loudly as they arrived back at the spot where they'd left their bags. He collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily, his white shirt drenched in sweat. "Ugh, sometimes I wonder why I run with you - you make me feel so unfit," he managed to sputter in between deep dreaths.

"It's a challenge," Syd teased with a smile, pulling a sweater out of her bag and over her head. Staring down upon Will's collapsed figure, she calmly stated, "You won't get any better if you don't have people to challenge you."

"So who challenges you then, Syd?" Will countered, struggling to lift himself off the ground. Picking up his bag, he followed Sydney down the bleachers and towards the exit of the stadium.

Looking over her shoulder, she joked easily, "I set my own challenges." Still, she couldn't help but think of the "challenge" she had faced on a mission only two days ago, a challenge that came in the form of a green-eyed stranger who had been occupying, she felt, too large a part of her thoughts recently. Now that she contemplated the matter, she realized that lately she had been distracted with questions about the man she had encountered. Of course, she concluded that the best way to rid her thoughts of him would be to have those questions answered; but that task had proved to be more difficult than expected.

She had been doing some discreet research, attempting to find out all that she could about him. However, her limited knowledge of him - in fact, her only knowledge of him (the fact that he had green eyes) - was proving restrictive. All her searches had so far turned up nothing. She had failed to mention anything to Dixon for fear of worrying him or making him suspicious that she was betraying their country. Obviously she wasn't. She was proud to be serving the United States government, and the mere thought of betraying her nation made her physically sick.

_Still, she hadn't tried…_

"Syd? Syd, are you listening to me?" Will asked with a concerned tone, waving his hand in front of her face in an attempt to wake her from her reverie.

"Uh, of course," Sydney responded hesitantly, snapping back into focus. "Just, um, remind me what you were saying again." Will shook his head and continued walking towards his car.

"For such an organized person, Syd, you can be completely spacey sometimes," Will stated with a soft smile, his laughter soon joining that of Sydney.

"I know, but what can you do? It's just the way I am," she answered once she had composed herself once again. Looking down at her watch, she remembered her plans for the day. "Argh, I'm gonna be late. I said I'd meet Fran in Starbucks at 1:00, and it's 12:45 now."

"Well, you could run. I mean, you are dressed for it, and I'm sure you won't be that late."

Taking his suggestion, Sydney took off across the field, yelling over her shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Quickly entering Starbucks, Sydney didn't have to look far into the crowded room before she spotted her friend, sitting alone at a small table. "Sorry I'm late, Fran," she said apologetically as she slid into the seat across the table from her friend. With a frappuccino in hand and a magazine on the table before her, Francie had already made herself comfortable in the few minutes that she waited for Syd to arrive.

"S'okay. Did you have a good run?" she questioned, closing the magazine she had been reading and focusing on her best friend. Sydney nodded in affirmation.

"Hey, did Will tell you about his article - the follow-up thing Litvack gave him to do?" she asked after buying herself a drink. Her run had left her quite thirsty, to say in the least.

"Yeah, pretty impressive, isn't it?"

"I know. He'll probably be writing for the New York Times soon," Sydney replied before taking a sip of her drink.

"He definitely should be. Anyway, you'll never guess what my latest gig is," Francie stated, a wide smile spreading on her face.

It was obvious through her friend's excitement that whatever it was, it was important and wouldn't be kept secret much longer. "Do you want me to try and guess, or do you just wanna tell me?" Syd queried in an amused voice. The excitement falling briefly from her features, Francie glared sarcastically at her friend.

"Very funny. I'm actually catering for a dinner of some of the FBI big cheeses who are in town on business. How cool is that!" Francie nearly shouted with glee. If there was one thing Sydney loved about Francie, it was her everlasting state of jubilance. She couldn't help but envy her best friend's normal life.

"Pretty cool," Syd answered, presenting her own infectious smile. "How did you get that?"

"Well, a couple of months ago, I catered for this seriously posh ladies luncheon thing, and apparently one of the women was the wife of one of these FBI guys. She really liked what I did, and so she recommended me," she finished breathlessly from her excited state.

"Wow, that is pretty neat. Soon you're gonna be the biggest name in catering around LA! I'm gonna want to tag along to all your parties and business lunches to meet all the famous people you'll be working for," she declared, though she knew that she was exaggerating in this case. Still, anything was possible.

"I hardly think it'll be like that," Francie remarked dismissively, rolling her eyes at her while taking another drink from her cup.

"Of course it'll be like that," Syd persisted, anxious to increase her friend's confidence. "And I can't wait," she ended with a full-dimpled smile. There was silence at the table as the pair ate their food. However, as fate would have it, Sydney's pager soon shattered the calm and friendly atmosphere.

"Ugh," she groaned, recognizing the all-too-familiar name on the beeper. "I have to go in. I'm sorry Fran; I thought I was actually gonna get an entire Saturday off, but apparently not. I'll see you at home or something, ok?" she said quickly as she rose from her seat and offered Francie an apologetic smile before heading out the door.

"You should quit," Francie called after her rapidly departing friend before standing up herself and heading off.

_She just wished she could._

"This man," Arvin Sloane said clearly as pictures came up on all the screens in the briefing room of a finely built fifty year old man, "is Claude Salviere. Mr. Salviere is a connoisseur of fine art, and he is holding an exhibition in his chateau in Southern France, just outside of Aix En Provence." Turning their heads from the screens, the agents in the room focused their attention on Sloane. "He has a painting in his possession which is not part of the exhibition. He acquired it recently from an unknown source, and it is, in fact, a copy of a Renoir painting believed to be lost."

"A copy?" Syd interrupted, a look of slight confusion on her face. "If it's a copy, how do we know it's a Renoir, and where's the original?"

Sloane turned to his best agent and patiently answered, "We are currently unable to find out the location of the original, but the painting was mentioned in the accounts of an art dealer who sold many of Renoir's works. However, this is not simply a copy of a valuable painting; the copy was painted over a map, as unbelievable as that may sound."

"What's on the map?" Dixon questioned, knowing well that, somehow, it was of vital importance.

"We are not certain of the particulars, but we believe it to be something related to a shipment of missiles which went missing a number of years ago. It is quite possible that this map will give us the whereabouts of those missiles, which is why it is critical that we retrieve the map before anyone else is able to. Sydney, Dixon, your plane leaves in an hour." He tossed files across the table to each of them. "Marshall will brief you both on the op-tech, and all the information on your aliases is in the files. Good luck."

Sitting in business class on a commercial flight to the Marseilles airport, Sydney tried to read through the file, but she was finding it impossible to focus. After a few more seconds of contemplation, she closed the folder and looked toward her partner.

"Dixon," she asked suddenly, quietly, either afraid to interrupt his nap or afraid to ask him what really truly desired to ask. He looked up from his file at the slightly distressed woman before him. "Have you ever met someone and had, I dunno, an instinct about them?" Upon witnessing his questioning look, Sydney knew that this conversation would be more difficult than she would have liked. "As if you knew you could trust them, even though you really didn't know them at all." Dixon only continued to look at her quizzically.  
"What's going on, Sydney?" he questioned slowly, worried at the sight of his agitated partner.

"Nothing," she said quickly, "Just Francie was asking me the other day. She met someone wondered if I thought you could, you know, know someone before you become acquainted with them, if you know what I mean," she finished sheepishly, completely aware that it was a pretty thin lie, but she hoped Dixon wouldn't be able to see through it. He gave her a suspicious look, but when she shrugged, his gaze returned to normal.

"I don't know. I can't really say I've ever met someone and had an 'instinct' about them, but I suppose that it could happen," he ended with uncertainty, still somewhat curious what was on her mind. They lapsed back into silence for a few more minutes before Dixon spoke again. "By the way, how are things going with Danny?" Sydney almost choked at his question.

The truth was, she realised with a sudden jolt, that she hadn't thought about Danny in almost twenty-four hours, so consumed had her thoughts been by her green-eyed stranger.

_Since when had he become_ her _green-eyed stranger?_

"Uh, he's good; we're good. Yeah, things are going really well," she declared lamely, adding a fake smile to convince both him and herself of the truth of her statement.

_She had to think more about Danny, and less about some random guy she had bumped into on a mission. Danny was her boyfriend - the love of your life. She just had to think: Danny, Danny, Danny, Danny…She wondered what his name is…no, wrong person! Danny, Danny, Danny._

With guilty thoughts of her beloved boyfriend Danny drifting through her head, Syd closed her eyes and fell into a restless, dream-filled sleep.

_Would she find him there again?_

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Hope you all liked it! Don't forget to review! Next post might come sometime late next week, depending on the reviews, lol. 


	3. Trouble Set Me Free

**A/N:** So yeah, here's the next chapter. Sorry this one took longer. Hope you all like this chapter! Please read and review; I love hearing what you all have to say! Honestly, it helps with the writing process.

Also, I've made a slight change which will hopefully make things easier to understand. While Sydney's thoughts will be _italicized_, Vaughn's thoughts will be both _italicized_ and **bold**. Let me know if that helps.

rauka: sorry to disappoint you, but this is definitely an S/V story; I just love Vaughn too much for it not to be! I mean, since this is pre-season one, I can't even guarantee that Sark will appear in this story... though, we'll leave that for future chapters to decide. Hope you'll like this story anyway!

**Dedication:** This is for Rica18, as she is an amazing writer (I highly recommend her story, Red Rain) and a loyal reviewer. Thanks for your kind words. :)

**Disclaimer:** I really do apologize for this, but I completely forgot to put this disclaimer on the prologue chapter. Seriously, my sincerest apologies. This story was kind of inspired by another I read here. It was an amazing story called Dark Knight, though I'm afraid I've forgotten the author's name. It was a Sarkney, but it was beautifully written with an outstanding plot and character analysis. Unfortuantely, she never got to finish writing it, and I think she might have even removed it from this site, so yeah. But I owe her credit because her story (which was pre-season one and involved Sydney meeting a masked Sark, who was kind of involved in the Rambaldi prophecy) really did give me the idea for mine.

**Additional Disclaimer:** The title for this chapter came from the Cat Stevens song, "Trouble." Great song, by the way.

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**Chapter 2: Trouble Set Me Free**

The exhibition was certainly impressive. Breathtaking, priceless paintings adorned each wall of the various rooms in the chateau. Based on the estate itself, the upper class guests, the sophisticated decor, and the ridiculously expensive wine that was being generously offered (not to mention the paintings themselves), it was not difficult to conclude that Mr. Salviere was a man of great wealth, and he wasn't afraid to show it.

Among the chauvinistic, suited men and their attractive, trophy mistresses were Sydney and Dixon. With a black suit and white shirt, Dixon was a finely dressed gentleman who blended perfectly in with the crowd. As he listened to the incessant chatter of an influential but egotistical woman, he calmly and subtly searched the mass of people at the exhibition until he finally spotted his partner. Of course, it would have been impossible to miss her.

Modeling a sleek and sophisticated outfit, Sydney turned heads like a sweet aroma in the midst of a foul reek. With a blonde wig that barely passed her shoulders half swept up, she wore only a light touch of makeup that perfected a stunning combination of both beauty and confidence. With a low neckline and thin straps, her sparkling, royal blue dress was ankle-length with a long slit on her right leg that reached her mid-thigh. Feet covered by blue heels and pearl colored purse in one hand, she was most definitely a sight to see, one which few would want to miss.

Having found her, Dixon waited until she ended her conversation with a shorter, older man. Upon making eye contact, they shared an imperceptible nod, as if in mutual agreement of something, before Sydney disappeared into the crowd. Excusing himself from the annoyingly talkative woman before him, he drew a cellphone from his pocket. Naturally, the phone contained a chip that, when activated, would send out an electromagnetic pulse to disrupt any surveillance feed or radio communication within the chateau. Pushing the "call" button, Dixon placed the cellphone back into his pocket and waited--she had five minutes to acquire the map and return to the party. He prayed that she would do so without any trouble.

Little did either of them know that Trouble was already on his way.

Carefully slipping into hallways and passing through doors, a resolved Sydney swiftly stepped down a new set of stairs, memorizing every change in direction and avoiding any guards. After a few more turns into broad hallways, she finally reached the door that marked the entrance to the vault room. Aware of her limited time, she quickly removed a flat container of "foundation," which was, in actuality, a descrambler, from her purse and placed it on the keypad beside the door. She activated the descrambler and had only to wait a few seconds before the doors slid open.

Placing the object back into her purse, she walked into the fairly large room containing highly valuable items. Staring closely at rows of clear cases and framed works of art, Sydney did not search for long before she came upon the specified painting. It happened to be a rather small piece, simple yet beautiful in style, and obviously bought at a high price. Without wasting another minute, she removed the painting from the wall and pulled it from its frame. Once she had done so, Sydney rolled up the painting and slid it inside a little, cylindrical container. So focused, in fact, was she that she had not heard the steady steps of an intruder. Not until the echoing click of the hammer did she realize that there was someone directly behind her.

"Don't move," commanded a soft but strong male voice. With the sound of those words, a scorching shock coursed through her veins, and shivers crawled up her spine. It was _him_.

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The endless halls and doors had confused him, but he had eventually managed to find his way. Well, he managed to do so with _her_ help. After discovering her when she rounded a corner, he was easily able to see past the blonde wig and amazing dress and discern her true identity. It was _her_ – the woman he had encountered and fought in his last mission; the woman who had spared his life; the woman who, despite her definite status as his enemy, somehow radiated benevolence and strength.

**_Okay, so maybe he had thought about her_ way _too much the past few days... But who could blame him? There was just something so... intriguing about her that he simply found impossible to resist._**

It was this curiosity combined with the realization that she would probably lead him to the vault that prompted him to stealthily follow her. Waiting patiently while she sought the right painting, he silently narrowed the distance between them until he was only a few feet away.

Taking a quiet, deep breath, he ordered with a shaky will and steady voice, "Don't move."

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It was true: she could not see him with her back to him. But that fact did nothing to weaken her intuition. Though she had never heard his voice before, she could _feel_ his presence, as if the heat that radiated from his body caused the room temperature to rise several degrees.

_Wait, that was ridiculous! What the hell was she talking about?_

Turning around slowly to appease her tortured mind, Sydney faced a man dressed in a black turtleneck, pants, boots, and mask. However, the minute she looked into his eyes, she knew she had been right. Those same green eyes of two days before stared calmly back at her--the same jade orbs that had swept her off her feet; the same emerald gems that had made her insides melt; the same forest spheres that had nearly caused her to fail the mission.

_Seriously, that was way too much analysis of his eyes. She had to learn more about him._

A moment of silence followed the immediate recognition of both people. With the pregnant stillness steadily growing, one of them had to speak.

"Hand over the painting," he ordered calmly, forcefully. Sydney had to suppress the smirk that threatened to ruin the gravity of the present situation.

_He didn't really think it was going to be that easy, did he? No matter--he would learn._

Boldly ignoring the gun pointed at her chest, Sydney stared into his perfect, green eyes and stated in an apathetic tone, "Not a chance."

In the blink of an eye, Sydney lashed out her hand and struck the wrist holding the fun, sending the weapon flying off into the room. Immediately, she punched his face forcefully with her left fist and completed her offense with a powerful kick to his chest, causing him to fall back into the ground. Her mind racing, she hastily examined the room for a sign of the weapon. Locating it a few feet to her left, she sprinted toward the gun and snatched it from the carpet floor. Quickly turning around, she was confronted with the now-risen stranger in front of her.

Moving aside from the path of her slightly extended arm, he ducked and fiercely pounded her flat abdomen. Caught by surprise, she dropped the gun and hardly had time to double over before the green-eyed enemy struck her jaw. Powered with adrenaline and motivated by rage, she hit his face with lightening speed and wildly swung her right hand. When the stranger caught her wrist with his right hand, she did not falter but instead chose to use her momentum to punch him with her left hand, her back facing him. Not a good idea. The man grabbed her left wrist as well and held both her arms tightly behind her as her body fell into his. Once again finding themselves trapped in a slightly compromising position, they both took a few moments to rest and examine the situation carefully.

_**Well, well, well. It seemed that luck was on his side. Here was another chance to get a good look at her without facing her wrath.**_

Although Sydney could hardly see the man with her back to him, he was easily able to observe her. It was not until this moment that he had taken note of the outfit she wore. The blue evening gown accentuated every curve of her body and left little to the imagination with the plunging neckline and high slit. Though she was still his enemy, he had no trouble admitting to himself that she looked very beautiful. Only a fool would have ignored her current state of dress, and this man was no fool. Obviously, he concluded that the wavy blonde hair she had was really a wig, yet he could not help but notice the way the ends of the wavy hair teased the thin straps of her dress. And with her ravishing figure pressed against him, needless to say, the situation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

For her part, Sydney managed to avoid looking into his gorgeous green eyes; she was not about to make the same mistake twice. Nevertheless, she could not neglect the powerful, attractive body that she melted into yet supported her at the same time. She could not ignore the heat that radiated from his fine figure, causing her cheeks to become even more flushed. Most of all, she could not forget the intoxication she experienced of the sexy scent about him, a smell she automatically knew belonged solely to him.

_What the hell was she getting herself into? This was her enemy--albeit, a very appealing enemy--but her enemy nonetheless. She had to get to the gun; it was either him or her._

Only after these observations had been made by both parties did she realize that his hold on her wrists had loosened considerably. After only the slightest moment of hesitation, she raised her right foot and slammed her flat heel onto his right foot. With a shout of both surprise and pain, he immediately released her only to face corporal punishment. Sydney rotated and punched both sides of his faces with her right and left fists. Spinning for momentum, she delivered a mighty kick to his chest, watching with satisfaction as he fell hard to the ground. Immediately lifting the weapon that lay nearby, she calmly pointed the gun at his lying form. Puzzled to see that his jade eyes expressed not horror but curiosity, she scarcely had a moment to register the fact the thumb safety was not disengaged before the shouts of guards echoed outside the room.

After sharing a look of complete shock, Sydney sprinted down the hallway with the stranger following closely behind. With the loud clamor of footsteps growing closer, she disengaged the thumb safety and took a few wild shots as they turned the corner. Pursued closely by gunfire, they ran nearly side by side through the endless maze of hallways, each time Sydney making several hardly precise shots with the ammunition he handed her as they rounded corners. They finally ran into a short hall with a door on the end. Choosing to rest for a moment at the corner, the man stood on the wall opposite her, watching her as she carefully peeked into the hall they had just left. Spotting a number of guards in hot pursuit, she shot several rounds at them, hitting one or two and causing the others to duck behind corners for cover.

All the while, the stranger could only screen himself from the guards' shots and watch as she shot back with controlled anger and determination. When the clip ran out once again, Sydney hid from view and stared back at the man, signaling with her eyes that she needed more bullets. That was when she noticed the striking look of worry in his green eyes. And just as quickly, she observed his eyes fill with the same fortitude that she now held.

Stretching his arm out across the hall, he stared intently at her and shouted, "Give me the gun."

_Was he crazy or something! She wasn't about to give the weapon to him so that he could reload and end her life here and now. She would fight him to the death if she had to._

Perceiving her gaze of disbelief, he looked solemnly into her eyes and with a quiet, calm voice, stated firmly, "Trust me."

**_He knew he had no right to ask that of her, not when he was her enemy and she his. But it was the only way; it was all he could think to do. All he wanted to do was help her… Help her! Was he insane! She was his enemy. Okay, okay, he wanted to at least save her life. After all, she had already spared his once before._**

_In her mind, no two words had ever exuded such truth as those he had just spoken. It wasn't so much what he said, but the way in which he had said it. Somehow, someway, she just knew that she could trust him._

For some strange reason, Sydney decided to take a chance and steadily handed the stranger his gun. When he reached for the gun, his hand barely grazed hers with the lightest of touches, causing both to shiver with surprise. After taking another moment to stare into her eyes, he grabbed another clip from his pocket and reloaded the gun. Cocking back the hammer, he looked at her firmly and stated, "I'll cover you."

_These words, though short in number, did much to reassure her. He was going to help her, not hurt her._

With both giving a firm nod, the man stepped out of the corner and shot at the approaching guards, crossing to the corner opposite the one Sydney hid behind. When he jerked his head indicating that she should go through the door into the stairs, she took one last look at her enemy, her savior before she turned and sprinted toward the door. She did not have to look behind her to know that the man was running in the opposite direction in an attempt to lead the guards away from her.

After her climb of the continuous steps, she finally reached the first floor and quickly found Dixon. Firmly taking his arm, they quickly left the party before anyone could stop them. As they stepped into the car, Dixon turned to her and asked, "Did you get it?" When a breathless Sydney could only nod her head in affirmation, he furthered his inquiry. "Did you have any trouble?"

_Trouble? Oh, yes, she had had Trouble with a capital "t." Only this trouble had saved her, this trouble had gained her trust, this trouble had obtained her respect… Or was it more than that?_

Shaking her head to both clear her thoughts of him and to answer Dixon's question, Sydney only looked ahead as they drove speedily from the chateau.

------------------------------------

Michael Vaughn slammed the door to his apartment and sat down upon his couch. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his green eyes and sighed heavily.

_**He had let her go... again. What the hell was wrong with him? In the past two days, he had met her and had turned into a spineless traitor to his country. No matter how many times he tried to come up with excuses, he could not convince himself that was not betraying the very nation he worked for.**_

_**But why? That was the real question. He had always been a hard-working agent, a man with indisputable loyalty to the United States of America... and he still considered himself to be that person.**_

_**So why had he let her escape? Though he did not want to admit it to himself, deep inside, he knew why.**_

_**Because ever since he had first seen her, he had been spellbound. She had piqued his interest. He couldn't explain it, but there was something about her... something that glowed with righteousness and morality. And though rationally he knew that he was just trying to find some foolish justification for his partiality toward his enemy, he really felt that somehow... she could be trusted. After all, she had chosen not to kill him on more than one occasion. So that had to mean that he could trust her... right?**_

_**Well, there was only one way to find out. He had to learn who she really was, who she really worked for. Only then would he have his answer.**_

* * *

Hope you all like it! Please review! I'll have the next chapter up sometime soon. 


	4. Distractions

**A/N:** Hey, so sorry this chapter took longer to post, but here it is. Seriously, thanks for all your wonderful reviews. They're really a lot of help. So please, read, review, and enjoy!

**Catherine: **"one of the best and most intriguing Alias Fanfic out there right now"? Wow, what a compliment. Thanks so much, really means a lot. Hope we don't disappoint in the future:)

**vaughnloveralwaysandforev**: Thanks for your kind words. Yeah, the different storyline is part of the reason I was willing to actually give it a try and write this thing.

**jennycraig10**: I'm glad to hear that it seems like a real story to you. That is our intention. As for other stories, Ellie (the co-author) does have a few works over at (okay, I don't know why, but this thing won't let me write the actual website, so I'll just spell it out) s d - 1 . n e t. I also have one other story there that I had started, but decided to discontinue after about 12 chapters; it's called _If Only_. Thanks so much for the encouragement!

**Rica18:** Hey, thanks for your awesome review. The missions I write myself, so thanks for the compliment. I try my best to make them seem as real as possible. It's almost like a dance, in a way, that you plan out move by move... but yeah. "Torn and confused" is exactly how we want to describe the main characters, so I'm happy you get that feeling. :) Seriously, can't wait for the sequel to Red Rain!

**dandan2300**: To answer your question, it is on another site. I would've mentioned it before, but for some reason the url won't show up with the rest of the chapter. But I'll just spell it out. s d - 1 . n e t. It's there, under the S/V fanfiction section, of course. Thanks for the review!

**electric pancake**: Lol, you're right. I do see the fights taking place in those white hallways... or the opposite dingy, dark halls/tunnels. No clue as to where this is going? Well, we'll see with future chapters. Ellie and I plan to take this story pretty far. So thanks, and enjoy!

**  
**

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing: not Alias, and not the quote or the title of the chapter, both of those belong to Zero 7 and their song 'Distractions'.

**Chapter Three: Distractions  
**

_I only make jokes to distract myself from the truth._

"And I'm Evening Gown Barbie," Syd and Francie chorused in unison as Will groaned loudly.

The pair sat beside each other in comfortable pajamas on the beige couch, a bowl of popcorn between them. Will stood in the kitchen in a rumpled suit and messy hair. Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator (he had a feeling this would be a long night), he walked into the living room and lay opposite them.

"I don't see why we have to watch this again," he asked, closing his eyes and shaking his head in dismay.

**  
**"Because it's our favorite film," Francie replied, reaching into the bowl and taking a handful of popcorn.

"And it's not like you don't make us watch _His Girl Friday_ every other week," Syd answered with a smug smile, weakly throwing a few pieces of popcorn in his direction.

Trying in vain to catch some of them with his mouth, Will picked up the rest and quickly ate them. "But that's a _good_ film."

"In your opinion," Syd corrected, "But there's no denying the fact that our choice is a hundred times better than yours."

**  
**"_Never Been Kissed_?" He rolled his eyes and chewed another handful of popcorn. "It doesn't even compare," he snorted as he rose from the couch and strolled into the kitchen once again.

"Shhh," Francie said with a mischievous smile, "This is the best part."

As Drew Barrymore fled from the prom on the screen, Sydney found herself drifting away on the couch.

_Since her life had been saved by her (damnit, she had to stop doing that. He was not_ her _green-eyed stranger! How many times did she have to tell herself that? It'd been what…three weeks now since she last saw him, and she was still thinking about him? Get over it already! She's not seventeen any more, she's not Josie Geller, and this was real life, not high school. She had to forget about him._

Since _(…that man…)_ had saved her life three weeks ago, she had been completely unable to erase him from her mind, and her inner monologue was proving to be useless. Though her reason told her he was no one – just some guy who happened to be at the right place at the right time, some guy was grateful _(attracted?...)_ to–something _(…love?)_ kept tugging at her heart.

_And…_

_truth be told…_

_she wasn't all that unhappy about it._

_Of course, she was a loyal CIA agent and he was the enemy who worked for God knows who… still, it piqued her interest._

_No, she shouldn't be thinking that. Despite the nagging feeling, she had a love boyfriend who didn't deserve to be set aside for a complete stranger._

_Danny Hecht was one of the sweetest men she knew. He bought her flowers, took her out to dinner in fancy restaurants, and called her when he was going to be stuck at work. He was training to be a paediatric cardiologist, and he loved his job. He talked about marriage and kids – he definitely wanted kids – and he'd never forgotten an anniversary or a birthday. All of this was great, wonderful, the kind of relationship every woman dreamed of._

_But she couldn't help but think that it was missing one vital element:_

_Passion (true love)_**  
**

_When their relationship first began, there had been those butterflies, that longing to see him, but, well, to be honest, that had disappeared after the third cancelled date in a row. The relationship was caring and warm and gentle and safe. Safe was what she had thought she wanted, what with her jet-setting life as an international spy. But after the second meeting with this man who so totally consumed her heart and mind, she was beginning to see that maybe safe wasn't what she wanted. Or maybe…well, it didn't really matter how that one worked. What did matter was that she wanted something more exciting from a relationship than flowers and romantic dinners._

_Or maybe she didn't._

_She was so confused. A man she'd only met twice, yet she couldn't stop thinking about him. This was ridiculous. She loved Danny, and that (her) stranger was just some guy she'd never see again…_

_She loved Danny…_

_Right?_

"…even listening to me?" Syd was brought back from her thoughts by Francie's irritated interjection.

"Sorry," she apologised quickly, briefly dropping her gaze into the bowl of popcorn before looking back at her. "What were you saying?"

"That's exactly my point!" Francie exclaimed, wearing an expression that showed more concern than annoyance. "Ever since you came back from that last business trip, it's like you've been on a different planet or something. Seriously Syd, what's going on with you?"

Though Francie stared at her friend, Will's eyes remained on the screen. Apparently, he had nothing to say about this.

"I'm just tired," she answered, bringing up the old excuse she had employed so many times before. "We've got this new client at the bank," she elaborated, "And he's really particular about everything, which just puts everyone under so much pressure. We get into so much trouble if things aren't perfect."**  
**

"I've told you this before, and I'll tell you it again," Francie began, "You…"

"Should quit," Syd finished for her with a smile that lightened the mood. "I know, but I can't. My job is important to me, Fran, you know that."

"But, Syd…"

"Francie," Will interrupted, his eyes on the movie but his mind on the conversation, "she wouldn't quit before; she's not going to quit just because you keep yelling at her." Francie sat back against the couch, slightly shocked by Will's outburst.

Sydney felt uncomfortable, suspecting that his comment sprung from his desire to appeal to her and win her favor. She knew how Will felt, but she didn't have the heart to turn him down face-to-face.

_Great, that's another thing she had to worry about. Will was one of her best friends, so how was she supposed to tell him that she just wanted to be his friend? God, that sounded so awful – so cliché – but it was the truth. Every time she mentioned Danny, he got this hurt look on his face._

_She knew she would have to deal with that one day, but for now she had to get her mind (and emotions) under control._

She sighed, ignoring the thought that invaded her brain and turned back to focus on the television.

_Was Danny the right man for her?_

"…my first real kiss." As Josie Geller stood on the pitcher's mound waiting for Sam, Sydney's mind wandered once more to the forbidden thought of what it would be like to kiss her green-eyed stranger.

_She couldn't help but wonder what he was doing at that moment._

_----------------------_

Surrounded by several papers, Vaughn was sprawled on the floor of his living room with his back to the couch. So far, he had found out nothing about the mystery woman who had captured his heart... or, at least, his attention. Though he had carefully searched any intel regarding the past two missions, there was no indication of which organization his enticing enemy worked for. After carefully studying the documents for a number of hours, Michael had spent the last few days acquiring and examining any surveillance tapes that would provide a hint as to her entrances, escapes, or partners.

Nothing.

Whoever these people were, they knew what they were doing. They knew how to cover their tracks--a fact which only seemed to confirm his dismal supposition as to the morality of the association that employed her. The only hope of discovering her identity lay in the partial fingerprint he had been able to remove from his gun after the last mission. But after four days of patiently waiting, there was still no word from his contact. And so it was that Vaughn, drained and discouraged, sat motionless on his apartment floor, gazing blankly at his television.

His reason was eager to disclose the simple and obvious truth: he was at a dead end. And, normally, he would have agreed but for the fire of curiosity (...love?) that burned within him.

_**There was no way to explain it. He just had to find out who she worked for (an evil organization? a black ops division?), where she lived (had he passed her on the street, in a store?), and who she was (a moral person?). But he wouldn't admit to himself that he also sought the answer to the question that inflamed his very soul.**_

_**How did she feel about him?**_

_**That was, of course, assuming that she felt anything at all. But he didn't have any doubt about that. Not that he was cocky or conceited, but he was sure that he had correctly interpreted the look of indecision when she did not pull the trigger... not to mention the lustful gaze that gleamed in her beautiful brown eyes when he had nearly kissed her on that first mission...**_

_**What would have happened if he had kissed her? Naturally, that led him to contemplate the more important question: wou--**_

Someone was pounding on his door, and by the escalating vibrations, that person had been knocking for a while. Languidly rising, Vaughn slowly approached the door, hardly thinking twice about his nearly naked state. His guest would simply have to deal with him wearing only a pair of light blue boxers. Opening the door, he was surprised to find a casually dressed Weiss pacing back and forth like a starved lion.

"Hey, Mikey!" Eric shouted with a bright smile before stepping into the apartment, completely missing the annoyed expression on his friend's face at the sound of the childish nickname.

_**At least Eric knew better than to call him that in public... or, worse yet, at work.**_

Vaughn had barely closed his door and turned around before Weiss bombarded him with questions.

"Mike, you ready?" There was a slight pause as he recognized that Michael was, indeed, not prepared at all. "Whoa! What's with you, Man? We've got practice in twenty minutes, and you look like you just got out of bed! Jeez, Mike, what the hell have you been doing all this time? It's like I've barely seen you these past few days. What's going on?" Weiss quickly questioned, amazingly able to finish his interrogation in two breaths.

Michael nervously rubbed his forehead and shut his eyes, waiting for the echoing questions to subside. Taking a deep breath, he looked up into the concerned eyes of his best friend and replied, "Sorry, Eric. I forgot about practice today, but I don't really feel like going. Just tell the guys I'm sick or something. They won't care."

Vaughn had to force himself not to recoil at Weiss' suspicious glare. Instead, he merely stared back, almost challenging him to question the veracity of his words. After a few seconds of this quiet battle, Weiss took a small step forward and asked with a calm voice, "What are you up to, Michael?" Upon hearing the inquiry, Vaughn cast his eyes upon the floor and shrugged.

_**He couldn't lie to him--not to his best friend. After years of friendship, that was the least that Eric deserved. But... should he tell him? Would he understand?**_

Before he could come to a decision, the silence was interrupted by words that resonated from the walls. "What the...?"

_**s**---.** He had found them. The papers, the tapes. How could he have been stupid enough to leave them out like that? What if someone other than Eric had shown up? How would he have explained that?  
**_

_**But it was time to tell him anyway. These thoughts had been bothering him long enough; he needed help.**_

Following Eric into the living room, Michael quietly began, "I've been... uh, doing some research on my own. I figured the Agency needs all the help they can get. We have absolutely no leads on this woman, and she's beat me to the artefacts twice. If I--I mean the Agency learns all they can about her, then maybe we can predict her next move and get there before she does. I'm just trying to do my job, Weiss," he finished lamely, all the while staring at the ground.

_**That was pathetic. Even he hadn't believed his own words, and he knew that Eric sure as hell wouldn't either.**_

Slowly lifting his head, Vaughn was met with Eric's open jaw and raised eyebrow. Without any hesitation, he quickly responded, "Mike, come on, it's me. I just want to know what the hell you're doing. I read your debriefs and, as far as anyone can tell, you did your job. You did everything you could," Weiss stated seriously before turning away from him. "I mean, Jesus, Michael, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you almost felt guilty about the whole thing."

Both men froze at these words.

Inhaling deeply, Eric turned to face his friend, who had taken a sudden interest in the couch beside them. He didn't need to see the pained expression on Vaughn's face to discover the truth of his words. Rooted to the floor, he stared in disbelief and calmly whispered, "You do feel guilty, don't you?"

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose before exclaiming, "Of course not! Where the hell did you come up with that? I'm just--"

"Cut the crap, Michael! I'm not stupid! I'm your best friend, and I think--"

"--trying to do my job better! Why the hell do you have to be so--"

"--you should at least tell me the truth instead of trying to lie to my face. I swear, it's like--"

"--suspicious about everything I do! This is my work, damnit, and I don't have to explain my actions to you or--"

"--you're trying to hide something from me! That's it, isn't it? You feel guilty because--"

"--ask your permission to do my job. I feel responsible for the failure of those two missions, that's--"

"--you must've let her escape, probably because you've fallen in love with her!"

"--all there is to it. For Christ's sake, it's not like I've fallen in love with her!"

Vaughn and Weiss immediately stopped talking upon hearing the same declaration escape from the other's mouth. Only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard in the room, but their eyes burned with rage and disbelief.

After an eternity filled with the void of silence, Eric slowly stepped up to his friend and proclaimed, "I know what you're doing. And if that's the case, then, fine; I won't stop you. But just remember which side you're on." With a final glance of confusion, pain, but also, understanding, Weiss walked away from Vaughn, opened the door, and shut (not slammed) it closed.

Rubbing his eyes, Michael stood still and waited for the pain to recede.

_**That had gone slightly better than expected. He had never argued so vehemently with Weiss, but, then again, he hadn't really anticipated Eric slapping his back and wishing him well. He was understandably pissed, but it was almost like Weiss understood why he was doing this--as if the idea of being in love (in love? Didn't he mean "attracted to?") with the enemy was not completely inconceivable.**_

_**Still, he would probably have to talk to Eric about the past two missions in detail and ask his opinion about what he should do.**_

_**For through all his endless meditations about this woman, he had forgotten that he might be betraying his country. And that was something he was not yet sure he could do, especially not for a simple attraction (love?).**_

His thoughts were once again suspended by the ringing cell phone on the table. Exhaling loudly, Vaughn reached over to his phone and studied the number: his contact. As he answered the call, he ignored the one question he refused to consider.

_**Would she kiss him back?**_

-------------------

So yeah, there's chapter 3. Like it? Hate it? Let us know. Thanks for all your support! First part of chapter 4 should be up sometime soon.

Liz


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